


this thing upon me howls like a beast

by zadonis



Series: the brotherhood of yuta's traveling handcuffs [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Handcuffs, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Slight Choking, Slow Burn, jealous doyoung, possibly slightly ooc, throat kink if that's a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 21:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13510125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zadonis/pseuds/zadonis
Summary: Ten and Doyoung have been fighting more than usual. As punishment, Taeyong tells them that every time they argue, they have to hold hands. Yuta, even more tired of all of the arguing, decided to take it one step further: handcuffs. The end result might be a little bit different than any of them originally expected.(This might be a little bit out of character at times. Slow burn. I think Doyoung has a throat fetish/slight choking kink.)





	this thing upon me howls like a beast

The choreography for the new comeback was taking longer to learn than NCT would have liked. Long hours in the practice room going over the same exhausting routine was taking it out of all of them. Doyoung in particular was feeling the stress more than some. His schedule was busy with MCing Inkigayo, rehearsals, and everything else in his schedule. He was running off about one hour of sleep each night, and after two weeks with only a handful of hours of sleep total, he was simply not having it anymore.

He collapsed to the floor in the middle of practice. Jaehyun nearly tripped right over him. Ten did.

The music shut off and their choreographer called for a break.

“Doyoung, what the hell?” Ten asked, pushing to his feet again and turning to the boy spread-eagle on the floor. “Hey!” He prodded Doyoung in the side with the toe of his shoe.

“Stop!” Doyoung reached out suddenly, wrapping a hand around Ten’s ankle and yanking, nearly pulling Ten off balance. “Ten, go away.”

He pushed when he let go, and Ten stumbled a few feet back.

“You can’t just quit because you’re tired in the middle of practice! That’s not the way that this works. We’re all tired, Doyoung. Get up, finish practice, and then sleep at the dorm. We’re trying to work here. If you’re going to be useless, then just leave.”

Ten was also suffering from a lack of sleep. He was more irritable than anything else, which was quite unfortunate for Doyoung who had finally given him an outlet for that irritability.

Doyoung glared up at him from the floor.

The other members had drifted away and were trying their best to ignore the bickering 96 line. It’s not like their bickering was an uncommon thing, and it was getting more common with each passing day.

“Get up!” Ten prodded Doyoung again. “Get up! Get up!”

He repeated himself until Doyoung finally sat up, wrapped his arms around Ten’s legs and pulled. Ten fell to the floor with a crash. Doyoung pushed forward, kneeling over Ten’s legs and he held his hands to the floor so that Ten could barely move and definitely couldn’t get up. “I’m taking a break. I’ll get up when I please. Mind your own business.”

An arm wrapped around Doyoung from behind, dragging him off of Ten. “Hey, knock it off.”

Jaehyun pulled Doyoung halfway across the room. Ten sat up on the other side, and Taeyong went to him. Practice resumed a few minutes later. Doyoung half-assed the choreo, but he didn’t cause anymore accidents even though he felt Ten’s eyes on him in the mirror the whole time.

\- - -

The dorm wasn’t usually so crowded. Doyoung just wanted to sleep, but even with the door of his, Yuta, and Winwin’s room closed, the walls were so thin and the rest of the dorm so crowded that it didn’t even matter. It sounded like they were all crammed into his bedroom. Above all he could hear Ten laughing and telling a story at a very loud volume. He pressed the pillow over his head, maybe hoping that by suffocating himself he’d be able to get some sleep.

It was no use.

Even after the exhaustion of that practice earlier, Doyoung couldn’t capture sleep in his hands. Fatigue was just blurring his vision, intensifying all of his emotions, and dangling sweet dreams just out of his reach.

Once again, Ten’s laugh from the hall outside broke through Doyoung’s attempts to sleep.

Doyoung was out the door of his room and pushing by Haechan on his way to get Ten to just quiet down a bit.

Ten was talking to Johnny, Mark, and Taeil. His head was thrown back, laughing again.

“Ten!” Doyoung hissed, grabbing the other boy by the shoulder.

“Let go!” Ten twisted around, swatting at Doyoung’s hand twisted in his sleeve. Doyoung didn’t let go; he dragged Ten around, pressed his back to a wall this time, and slapped his hand over Ten’s mouth. The rest of the dorm fell silent, watching the scene. “Doyoung, let go of me!” Ten’s voice was muffled, and his hands came up around Doyoung’s wrists, trying to pull him off.

“I’m trying to sleep in there but all I can hear is your damn voice!” Doyoung shoved Ten against the wall more. “You just keep laughing, Nothing could be that funny.”

Ten’s tongue brushed over the palm of Doyoung’s hand. Disgusted, Doyoung moved his hands to the safer region of Ten’s shoulders, holding him against the wall.

Ten smirked, “It was _really_ funny, actually. We were talking about you.”

Doyoung narrowed his eyes.

Ten’s voice was quiet, teasing, as he said, “You’re pathetic, Doyoung. Just laying down at practice. Just caring about yourself. I was telling them about that time when you—“

“Shut up.” Doyoung growled, keeping his voice low enough that even in the silence of the room, none of the others could hear him clearly.

One hand slid up from Ten’s shoulder to his throat. Doyoung didn’t squeeze hard enough to do any damage, not really, only a light squeeze—enough for Ten to feel it.

Ten laughed, a breathy noise. He clutched at Doyoung’s wrist. “I’d like to see you try. Do it.”

Doyoung leaned closer, his hand tightened minutely.

“Hey! Hey!” Taeyong slapped Doyoung’s shoulder, and Doyoung wheeled around, furious. Taeyong held his hands up in surrender. “You two need to chill the fuck out. At the rate you’re arguing with each other, one of you is going to kill the other before the month’s out.”

Doyoung looked back at Ten, at his hand curled against Ten’s soft skin. The pressure of his fingers blossomed white around his fingertips. Ten’s hand was fastened around his wrist, dark eyes wide and something flickered interestingly within the depths of his eyes. Around the room, the other guys were frozen.

“You can’t strangle Ten, you idiot. For one, you’ve got a dozen witnesses,” Taeyong waved around the room. “And we’re going to be making a comeback soon. As the leader of this group, I can’t let the two of you rip each other apart. Doyoung, let go of him. We’ll quiet down. Go back to bed. I’ll think up a punishment for the two of you tonight.”

When Doyoung went back to bed, the rest were quick to follow. His rage had killed the mood.

Yuta and Winwin quietly undressed and climbed into their beds, not even speaking to each other in order to avoid enraging Doyoung again. But Doyoung wasn’t ready to sleep anymore, now he wanted to discuss what had just happened.

“Who does he think he is?” He pouted.

Yuta groaned. “Don’t be so dramatic, Doyoung. Both of you are being ridiculous with all this arguing. Now, please, you’ve caused enough trouble tonight. Go to sleep.”

\- - -

“You want us to do what?”

Doyoung wasn’t entirely sure about the punishment; it didn’t really deserve that title, although Ten seemed to think it did.

“Every time you start to argue, you have to hold hands.” Taeyong nodded. “Fully interlocked fingers. The whole thing. You can’t let go until you’re not arguing.”

“That’s stupid.” Ten folded his arms over his chest. “Why would we hold hands? How is that going to solve anything?”

“It will. Trust me.”

That was the last Taeyong had to say on that matter. All Doyoung could think about was the feel of Ten’s throat, his heartbeat pounding under his palm. He glanced over at Ten.

“I’m not going to hold his hand.” Ten folded his arms over his chest, tucking his hands under his armpits. “That’s stupid.”

Taeyong nodded again. “Right. Okay.”

“What’s so bad about holding my hand?” Doyoung asked. “It’s just when we argue. And if Taeyong hyung thinks it’s a good idea, then it must be a good idea.”

Ten rolled his eyes. “You’re only agreeing cause you want to be a suck up. He’s not going to play favorites with us, and if he did, I’m clearly Taeyong hyung’s favorite.”

Doyoung scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“Oh my God!” Taeyong rolled his eyes and stood up. “We have an appearance to make. Try not to kill each other on the ride over at least. Maybe try not talking to each other at all.”

That worked just twelve minutes, long enough for them to get down to the vans and be stuck in a close proximity for a few minutes. Fortunately for everyone else, it was only Ten, Doyoung, and Taeyong in the van together. Anyone else likely would have jumped out of the moving vehicle when Doyoung started complaining that Ten bouncing his leg in the backseat was vibrating Doyoung’s seat.

Taeyong let it go for about one minute, and then snapped.

“That’s it! Hold hands. Now!”

“Are you serious?” Doyoung whined, looking at Taeyong with sad eyes. Usually Taeyong fell for Doyoung’s pouty face, but this time it didn’t work. The eldest of the three shook his head and stared out the window.

“Hold hands. Now.”

Doyoung stuck his hand over the seat and waved it at Ten. Throwing another glance at Taeyong, Ten sighed and took Doyoung’s hand.

“How long do we have to do this for?” Doyoung asked.

He could feel Ten’s heartbeat faintly but more than he wanted to be able to.

“As long as it takes,” was Taeyong’s reply.

Ten made a disgruntled noise from the backseat and mumbled something in Thai.

For the rest of the ride, they held hands over the back of Doyoung’s seat. Taeyong occasionally checked to make sure that they still had their hands clasped, and Doyoung’s insides were hot. He wanted to fight with someone. Fighting with the leader was a bad idea, and now he’d be punished for arguing with Ten. Although, they were already holding hands, he imagined arguing more with the Thai boy would make Taeyong’s punishment an unrelenting one. They’d be holding hands until they died.

When they finally reached their destination, slowing as they pulled toward the building, the sheer number of fans waiting for them was stunning. Already, Doyoung could see all the phones—he could imagine the article headlines about he and Ten holding hands like that. Before he could ask Taeyong if the punishment was over, Ten did.

“Can’t we let go now?” Ten asked. “We aren’t even arguing, and look at all the fans, Taeyong hyung! We can’t get out of the van holding hands.”

“Sure you can.” Taeyong stared Ten in the eyes, daring him to let go of Doyoung’s hand. “Fans like skinship, and this is supposed to teach you a lesson, right? It wouldn’t be a proper lesson if you didn’t get just a little humiliation from it.”

Ten said something in Thai again. Doyoung was pretty sure it was a swear, but neither he nor Taeyong said anything in response. The van rolled to a stop behind the van carrying the other members.

As soon as the door opened, the cries of exhilarated fans silenced everything else. By now, Doyoung felt they as a group should have been used to large crowds of fans, but somehow the fans still caught them off guard at times. Such as right then.

Ten started jerking his hand around, trying to break free of Doyoung’s hold.

“Don’t let go,” Taeyong reminded them, his voice chiming cheerfully.

Doyoung paused, waiting for Ten to emerge from the backseat, and then he stepped out to face the fans. Ten stilled for a moment, seemingly intimidated by the crowd a bit. His hand flexed in Doyoung’s, not as if to pull away, but rather like a nervous habit of clutching what was nearest to pull it in front as a shield. Part of Doyoung wanted to turn to Ten and tease him for being afraid, but the larger part of him, the part that wasn’t exhausted and annoyed by his and Ten’s arguments, wanted to stand between Ten and the crowd that intimidated him.

Doyoung glanced over at the shorter boy. He wore a mask and a hat, so most of his face was covered, but his eyes were alight. Doyoung squeezed his hand back, and said, “Just hold my hand, follow me.”

The squeeze from Ten after that seemed to indicate a yes.

The fans were held back a few feet from the vans, but they pushed at the barriers, hanging over them as other fans pressed forward. Some held out gifts while others were filming on their phones, flashes were going off from casual fans and fansites. The noise was magnificent. It was almost disorienting. The other members were already cutting through the crowd toward the front doors of the building, and as a manager gestured for Doyoung to follow, he started off, tugging Ten behind him. Ten stuck close, nearly tripping over Doyoung’s heels.

Once they reached the fans, Ten clung closer. The fans broke through the barrier of security that tried to keep them away, and everyone crushed in.

Someone pushed into Ten, knocking him off-balance, and Doyoung nearly went after him since they were still holding hands. Rowdy fans were the worst. Doyoung grabbed for Ten’s waist, slipping his free hand around the other boy’s side, getting a fistful of his shirt to pull him upright again. Ten crashed into Doyoung’s side, and Doyoung kept walking.

Now he could feel the other boy’s heartbeat throbbing through his body, pressed as closely together as they were. If things had been a bit more quiet, Doyoung was sure he’d have been able to hear Ten’s ragged, frantic breathing, but as it was, the volume was incredible.

Security grabbed onto Doyoung’s shoulder, and the crowd parted before them, showing a clear path to the front doors, the other members slipping inside already.

Doyoung made a beeline for the door, dragging Ten along with him. Taeyong trotted behind them.

They didn’t speak or anything as they were led into the building, away from the eyes of the fans. Finally they reached the room they were supposed to be in. Doyoung released Ten from his side, but their hands were still joined between them; Ten’s hold was tight enough that Doyoung was sure he’d cemented their hands together.

“You’ve already argued?” Jaehyun teased, nodding at their joined hands.

Taeyong stepped around them. To them, he said: “You can let go now.” To the rest of the group: “It was a short argument, but I think they’re learning I’m serious.”

“Sure, hyung.” Jaehyun smiled.

Doyoung plucked his hand from Ten’s, wiping it against the leg of his pants. Ten’s hand was sweaty. Ten ducked away to go tuck into Johnny’s side; Doyoung watched him go, rubbing his tingling fingers against his leg.

“Fan’s are all talking about the two of you holding hands on Twitter.” Mark said without looking up from his phone. “They think it’s cute. They also think that Doyoung’s hair looks nice.” He’d just recently dyed it purple again, and today was the first time showing it off to the public.

When the hair and makeup people rushed into the room, suddenly everyone got to work. In all of the mess of getting ready for the commercial they were filming, Doyoung forgot about that silly urge to protect Ten he’d gotten in front of the crowd.

\- - -

It didn’t take long for the effect of holding hands to become completely useless. When they weren’t faced with a crowd of fans, the idea of grasping hands wasn’t really anything major. Their arguments weren’t affected at all. They were still busy, still going with barely any sleep each night, and that meant things were still tough.

When Doyoung came home one evening from filming a special pre-taping for a segment on Inkigayo, all he wanted was to take a shower, eat some of the delicious food his mother had sent him recently, and then head to bed.

The shower was successful although short since Jeno kept hitting the door, demanding that he needed to take a shower. Doyoung just wanted to eat his mother’s food and then go to bed. It was all he had his heart set on, so he dressed quickly in sweatpants and a top that his brother had once called “a slutty top” since the sleeves were completely cut off almost all the way down to the bottom hem of the shirt. This of course meant that when he was dancing or doing almost anything in it, his stomach was frequently revealed, but it also was a very cool top to do any exercise in.

Taeyong seemed to appreciate it, whistling as Doyoung came out to the kitchen. He, Yuta, Ten, Winwin, and Haechan were sitting around the TV. Doyoung waved, and headed right for the refrigerator. The inside of the fridge was a mess of leftover takeout containers, energy drinks, pizza boxes, plastic containers filled with mystery foods and labels that only had the names of members, and oddly a half-melted chocolate fudge ice cream.

Doyoung looked around, but there was no sign of the container of his mom’s food. He clearly remembered labeling the box with his own name, and he also remembered not having eaten all of it.

And when he inhaled a deep, thinking breath, he caught a whiff of what he was almost certain was his mother’s dish.

Suspicious, he turned to the cluster of boys around the TV.

He caught a flicker of movement as one of them turned back to the TV. The same someone who was hurriedly stuffing his face as Doyoung walked over. Somehow by the time that Doyoung stood beside the sofa, there wasn’t a plate or bowl or eating utensil in sight. He could have imagined it all if it weren’t for the smear of red on Ten’s chin and Winwin watching him with a bemused expression.

“Did you eat my food?” Doyoung asked.

He tried his best to keep anger out of his voice. He really did. He was just asking a question, he wasn’t mad about it. Not yet.

Ten blinked up at him. “What?”

Doyoung closed his eyes. He tried that calming breath thing. He opened them again. Ten was still staring up at him with the incriminating evidence right on his face. “Did you eat my food? It had my name on it. It was from my mother. Did you eat it, Ten?”

The atmosphere in the room went cold, but the TV buzzed with laughter from whatever show they were watching.

“No,” Ten glanced away.

Doyoung narrowed his eyes. “You fucking liar.”

“Doyoung hyung!” Haechan gasped. It wasn’t exactly common for Doyoung to swear so intensely. And he especially tried not to swear like that in front of the younger members.

The older members seemed just as shocked.

“Ten, I can see it on your face. I know you ate it, so do you think I’m stupid?” Ten opened his mouth, but Doyoung cut him off, saying, “Why would you eat my food? It clearly had my name on it, and I was really looking forward to eating it.”

“I didn’t see your name!” Ten said. “And I’m pretty sure it’s been in there for a while. If you wanted to eat it, you should’ve eaten it before today.”

“I wanted it today. It’s only been in the fridge for a week and a half. I was saving it.” Doyoung wanted to hit something.

“Don’t you think you’re blowing this a little out of proportion?” Yuta mumbled. “It’s just food, Doyoungie. Ask your mom to make more, or, hey, compromise—have Ten make it since he ate it.”

Doyoung sneered. “As if he could make it without fucking it up in some way.”

“I almost won that competition on NCT Life, Doyoung!” Ten jumped to his feet and came face-to-chest with Doyoung. He jabbed a finger into Doyoung’s shoulder. “If you recall, you were out of it before I was. I could probably do your mom’s recipe better than her if I had it.”

“Hold hands!” Taeyong said, raising his voice to be heard over them. “Hold them!”

Taeyong grabbed Ten’s hand and reached for Doyoung’s, but Doyoung pulled back. “I’m not going to hold his hand. He ate my food! And he just blasphemed my mother.”

Again, Taeyong reached for Doyoung’s hand, and this time Doyoung didn’t resist, but when Taeyong pushed his hand against Ten’s, he didn’t make any effort to hold it either. No matter how much Taeyong persisted. Doyoung glared down at Ten and that ridiculous stripe of red on his chin. Ten returned his gaze, fire in his eyes that promised to eat Doyoung alive if he kept pushing.

“Taeyong, I told you this was a stupid idea. Why did you think it would work?” Yuta stood up and walked out of the room.

“I didn’t blaspheme your mother,” Ten said, pushing up on his toes so that he was actually face-to-face with Doyoung, and whispered, “I just think I could make that dish as well if not better than her. Can I have her number? I’ll message her for the recipe.”

The snide tilt of his lips when he said that had Doyoung’s temper broiling just under the surface. He was about to say or do something when Yuta re-entered the room, striding toward the 96ers.

Yuta said, “Since I thought this holding hands idea was dumb, I came up with my own solution. Here, look, better solution!” The cold snap of something on Doyoung’s wrist had him looking down. A silver ring and chain joined his left wrist to Ten’s right wrist.

Handcuffs.

Suddenly his anger fled. The coolness of the cuff was like an extinguisher, instead filling him with something close to panic.

“No. No, no, no. You can’t do this, Yuta hyung!” Doyoung jerked his arm, but the cuff meant that he didn’t get far. “We can’t be handcuffed together. I have to MC, we have to practice. We can’t do the choreography if we’re handcuffed together.”

Yuta shrugged. “We can figure something out. I’m tired of your arguments, this seems like a better solution than just holding hands.”

Doyoung pulled again, and Ten’s arm flung toward him, slapping him in the stomach.

“What, don’t you have anything to say now?” Doyoung snarled.

Ten looked up. His gaze was cool, no sign of that fire from before. He turned away from Doyoung, directing his next words instead to Yuta. “Kinky, hyung. Where’d you get handcuffs?”

Yuta laughed and pressed a finger to his lips. “It’s a secret.”

“How are we supposed to do anything when we’re like this?” Doyoung asked, and again, he moved his arm around, causing Ten’s arm to flop around after him.

“Ouch.”

“You’ll manage, I’m sure.” Yuta shrugged.

Doyoung didn’t want to bring up what he was thinking. He was grateful he’d showered already before this, but what about when he had to pee? When he or Ten needed to change clothes? He was smart enough that he could look ahead and see all the problems that were going to arise the longer they were cuffed together.

“Where’s the key, hyung?” Doyoung asked.

“I’m not telling.”

“We can’t be locked together like this. It’s not practical. Think about it, Yuta hyung. Taeyong hyung?”

Even the leader didn’t seem to care anymore. He ignored Doyoung. Doyoung attempted to appeal to the younger members.

“Haechan? Winwin? Winwin, come on. You probably know where he hid these. Do you know where the key is?”

Winwin smiled and shook his head, high-fiving Yuta immediately after. Doyoung couldn’t help but think that everyone was in on this. He looked down at Ten again.

“This is all your fault, Ten.”

“Right.” Ten tried to fold his arms over his chest, but that was a bit difficult to do when he had Doyoung strapped to one of them. Doyoung almost (accidently) punched him in the face. “It’s totally not at all your fault for having a temper tantrum over some missing food. Or your fault for throwing a fit about that shirt that I bought myself and you thought was yours. Or, you know, most of the stuff that we argue about.”

Doyoung frowned. “You literally told me yesterday that you hoped I walked out into traffic because I changed the channel on the TV when you went to the bathroom. Who’s the real drama queen?”

“Are you sure this was a good idea?” Haechan asked, looking up at Yuta. “Now they can’t get away from each other when they’re in this kind of mood.”

Yuta nodded. “Oh, trust me. This will work. Now they can’t run away from their problems.”

“What problems?” Ten asked, suddenly turning on Yuta. “We don’t have problems.”

The room burst into laughter.

Angry, Ten made to storm off to the room he shared with Jaehyun. Doyoung remained rooted to the spot, and both of them groaned at the pain of their arms being stretched between them. Ten tugged, trying to get Doyoung to follow him like a dog. Doyoung yanked back in retaliation. He was a bit surprised when Ten stood his ground and didn’t budge.

“I’m hungry. I’m not leaving the room.” Doyoung tried to walk toward the kitchen, but Ten didn’t move. “Come on. Really? Are you going to let me starve because you’re feeling stubborn, Ten. Really?”

“Well, I want to go to sleep. Are you really going to deprive me of sleep, Doyoung?” One of Ten’s eyebrows rose up his forehead questioningly.

“I’m hungry enough that if you don’t let me eat now, I can’t promise I won’t gnaw your arm off.” Doyoung’s stomach growled and he looked to the kitchen, trying to see what he could quickly make to sate his hunger.

“Yuta hyung!” Ten cried. “Please, unlock us. He just threatened my life, and you’re going to leave me handcuffed to him? I just want to go to my room. And how are we supposed to sleep, I’m not letting him in my bed after what he did last week!”

Ten was of course referring to a fight that he had started by himself. What had started out as pranks among the members had turned into Ten shaving off half of one of Doyoung’s eyebrows. When Doyoung retaliated, it was by the old classic of putting Ten’s hand in warm water. Ten had not pissed himself as was supposed to happen, but had instead woken up, and in Doyoung’s panic, he’d dumped the entire bowl of fairly warm water all over Ten and his bed. Just that morning he’d been complaining that the mattress still felt damp.

“Figure it out, guys. I’m not giving you the key.”

“How are we going to explain this to our team? How am I supposed to go film when I’m handcuffed to Ten?” Doyoung asked. He shook their arms.

“Pretend like it’s to promote the new song.” Winwin suggested.

The other boys laughed. Doyoung and Ten did not.

Doyoung’s stomach growled again. “I’m not kidding, Ten, I will eat you later if I can’t eat now.”

Ten rolled his eyes. “Fine, pick something to eat.”

He let Doyoung lead him around the kitchen, and he seemed to be trying his best to predict where Doyoung was about to reach, because by the time Doyoung had his meal prepared, it was clear they were already both tired of their arms being suddenly jerked around by the other person. Doyoung’s wrist was turning bright red and aching.

They sat together at the table.

“Who has the biggest bed in the dorm?” Ten asked after a few minutes.

Doyoung just looked at him.

“I’m asking,” Ten’s eyes widened, and he said, “Because maybe we could convince them to let us use their bed while we’re like this.” He waved their joined hands together. “Maybe Johnny hyung? Or do Renjun and Chenle share a bed? Maybe they’d like an upgrade to our rooms?” He tapped his fingers on the table lost in thought.

Doyoung stared at him.

It wasn’t a bad idea. If they had a bigger bed, it wouldn’t be so awkward that they were stuck with each other. In the single beds that each of them had in their own rooms, they would be completely pressed together, and without a doubt, one of them would end up on the floor with a shoulder popped out of socket or worse by the morning. A larger bed was their only hope.

After Doyoung finished eating, they left to find someone who would lend them a bed.

After trying Taeil and Johnny, and then after attempting to bribe Chenle and Renjun, the handcuffed pair turned to Jeno.

For some reason that none of them had ever been able to identify, Jeno had been given his own bedroom. It wasn’t a large room, but there was no roommate, and the bed was probably the biggest in the dorm, taking up most of the space in the small room.

Jeno appeared to be half-asleep and not really happy that his two hyungs were disturbing him. He looked first between their faces and then at some point his gaze traveled down to their hands. He laughed when he saw the handcuffs.

“What happened?”

“Someone thought it would be funny.” Doyoung explained. “Now we’re stuck together. Can we have your room?”

That seemed to shock Jeno. “Why? For what?”

“To sleep,” Ten answered. “We can’t sleep in our beds when we’re like this.” He raised their arms.

Jeno looked between them again, and then peered out into the hallway as if checking for witnesses, and then he smiled. “If I give you my room, what will you give me?”

It was something they’d discussed while Doyoung ate, and they’d come to the conclusion that at a yet-to-be-decided date, they would allow one hour of Yaja time for the person who donated their room. That hadn’t been enough for Renjun and Chenle, but as soon as Jeno heard that offer, he accepted.

“Yeah! Sure, have my room. How long are you going to have it for?”

“As long as Yuta hyung is being this way.” Doyoung frowned. “He refuses to give us the key, no matter how many times we ask. You can take my room, and when you want this room back, just pester him until he gives us the key. Then Ten and I will go back to our own rooms. Deal?”

The three of them shook on it, and then Jeno returned inside his room for a few minutes to gather some of his belongings. Doyoung and Ten went to Doyoung’s room first. He stuffed some pajamas, clothes for the next few days, a novel, and a few more things in his bag. They went to Ten and Jaehyun’s room next, and Jaehyun laughed for a good five minutes while they packed some of Ten’s things into a bag.

“This is hilarious. How do you not see it’s funny?” Jaehyun asked when Ten accidentally slapped Doyoung in the face when Doyoung was knelt down on the floor, trying to untangle his foot from a charging cord on the floor. “This is full of comedic potential. Yuta hyung is so smart.”

Doyoung could think of several different names for what Yuta was, but none of them were really flattering, so he kept them to himself.

Jeno was gone from his room by the time they returned. Doyoung went to sit his bag on the right side of the bed, but he stumbled backward, caught by the cuffs again. He swore.

“These are going to take a while to get used to.”

Ten rubbed at his wrist, already turning a bruised shade of purple. “Yeah. You’d think maybe that hyung could have at least used padded hand cuffs.”

Doyoung agreed, but he wasn’t going to admit that out loud, so instead he said, “Stop talking. Let’s just go to sleep. My alarm is set to go off in four hours. If I fall asleep now, that’ll be the most sleep I’ve gotten in one night for weeks.”

“Don’t look while I change into my pajamas.” Ten said, turning away.

Doyoung looked down at his own clothes. He knew it wasn’t going to be worth the struggle to change them, and anyway, the sleeveless shirt and his sweatpants would be fine to sleep in. When Ten whined again, Doyoung turned with his back to the other boy. He found a crack on the ceiling, a stain right beside it, and another stain on the floor that looked oddly like some sort of red beverage had been spilled there.

Every now and then, the arm that he had sticking out behind him so that Ten could be as far away as possible, would jerk, sending a jolt of pain up through Doyoung’s shoulder. It had been several minutes of small jerks to his arm when Ten finally groaned.

“Well, now what?” Ten asked, his voice slightly muffled.

Doyoung glanced backwards and found Ten tangled in his shirt, his stomach exposed, revealing a nice six-pack, not that Doyoung was really paying much attention to that or the dip of his hips leading to the band of his boxers. Ten wiggled, twisting Doyoung’s arm. Once again, Doyoung was grateful for all he’d done before getting cuffed to Ten.

“Need some help?” Doyoung tried to suppress his laugh, but it came out in his voice anyway.

“No, I don’t need your help, Doyoung.”

Ten struggled with the shirt again. See, the problem was that with their hands cuffed together, he couldn’t quite work the shirt over his head, and even once he did, he wouldn’t be able to get it off. Already, Doyoung could see they were going to need scissors to cut the shirt off of him. And getting dressed in the morning would be a bit of a problem too.

He watched Ten finally pull the shirt over his head, and it slid down his arm, the one sleeve still hanging on his arm. He frowned down at where it sunk onto the chain of the handcuffs.

“That’ll be fine there right?” He flicked his eyes up to Doyoung’s.

“No,” Doyoung shook his head. “We have to cut it off.”

Ten shook his head vehemently. “That’s one of my favorite shirts. We’re not going to cut it apart.”

Doyoung stood up, rummaged around in his bag and pulled out a small kit.

“Of course you have a first aid kid.” Ten huffed. “But I am not going to let you cut apart my shirt. It’s special.”

“Relax.” Doyoung snapped the scissors open and closed a few times with what Ten considered to be a sadistic smile. “I’ll cut along the seam. You can ask someone to sew it back together.”

Doyoung laughed when Ten closed his eyes and looked away from the scissors biting through the fabric of the shirt. Doyoung was true to his word, and he tried his best to cut right along the seam that ran up the side of the shirt, and he gently cut around the sleeve, and finally sliced through the neckline. The shirt fell into a pile on the floor. Doyoung scooped it up and tossed it at the side of Ten’s face.

“There you go, baby.”

Doyoung meant that to sound patronizing, calling Ten a baby, but he wasn’t entirely sure it came out sounding that way. For one, when the shirt fell away from Ten’s face, the other boy had a strange expression on his face, watching Doyoung tuck the scissors back into the first aid kit. For another, he felt a lurch in his stomach as soon as the word left his mouth. To his own ears it didn’t even sound patronizing, but rather more like a term of endearment.

Ten’s cheeks were slightly pink. He dropped his ruined shirt on top of his bag.

“Guess there’s no use trying to get another shirt on.”

Doyoung didn’t answer.

Getting arranged comfortably on the bed was difficult. The handcuffs dug into his wrist, and anytime Ten moved, he dragged Doyoung’s arm, and vice versa. Eventually, they both just laid flat on their backs, their hands almost touching, separated by just that small stretch of chain.

All Doyoung could think of was how much he wished Taeyong would’ve stepped up as leader and told Yuta that he couldn’t just handcuff them together. The repercussions would be bad. No doubt the fans and media would latch onto the cuffs and spin all kinds of stories about the reason behind it. Maybe if they were lucky, when their team saw the handcuffs they would demand that Yuta hand over the key and let Ten and Doyoung be free again. But until then, Doyoung would have to sleep in this uncomfortable position. If he had sleep paralysis, he was going to use all the brain power he possessed to tell the sleep demon to kill Ten first. Doyoung liked to sleep on his stomach, but he couldn’t now.

As if he was thinking a similar train of thought, Ten sighed loudly.

“This is stupid.” Ten whined. “He could at least unlock us for the night, you know.”

“Cause either of us would let him re-handcuff us? It’s not like we were willing participants this time.”

“That’s true, but I hate this. Jeno’s bed isn’t even that comfortable, and I can’t even sleep in a comfortable position.” Ten kept talking, babbling as if he couldn’t sleep until he wore himself out by chatting.

Doyoung rolled over in an attempt to escape the other boy, and he felt the cuffs tug annoyingly against his wrist. He heard Ten whine and roll over as well; the other boy’s arm fell over Doyoung’s waist. Doyoung flinched, but he didn’t bother trying to move Ten’s arm because for once, the cuffs weren’t scratching against his wrist.

“I’m not trying to spoon with you, by the way,” Ten mumbled after a moment. “It’s just that this is the only way to not feel like my arm is burning.” His fingers twitched against Doyoung’s stomach.

Doyoung snorted. “Whatever.”

He could feel Ten’s breath against the back of his neck, and after a handful of minutes, his breath had evened out. It took Doyoung considerably longer to fall asleep, but when he did, dreams welcomed him in like the softest blankets.

\- - -

Doyoung woke to the sound of his alarm going off and Ten breathing in his ear. Not quite snoring, but it wasn’t just breathing either. It was some annoying noise caught right in between. Somehow, the alarm was less annoying, but Doyoung could slap at his phone to shut it off.

He jabbed his elbow between Ten’s ribs to make that noise stop.

Ten rolled backwards until the chain of the handcuffs pulled tight.

Breathlessly, he managed the words, “What the shit, Doyoung?”

“I need to get up. I need to shower and then I have to go.” The alarm meant he had just under an hour to be completely ready and out front of their building to get in the van so he could be at work on time. Ten’s eyes drifted shut again.

“Hey, no.” Doyoung shook his shoulder. “Ten, get up.”

“I don’t want to shower with you, Doyoung.” Ten attempted to bury his face in the pillow again.

“Well, you have to, as much as neither of us likes it.” Doyoung was preparing himself to lift Ten and carry him away if he had to, but as soon as his he slid one hand under Ten’s shoulder, the other boy’s eyes opened and he jolted upright, knocking their foreheads together.

The shower was a bit difficult to manage after Doyoung finally convinced Ten to go in there with him.

Doyoung wasn’t in the mood to deal with a naked man so early in the morning, so he didn’t want to actually shower off with Ten. And they still had to figure out how to get dressed again once the shower was over. It took some complicated maneuvering to get Doyoung’s top off, involving slipping it along the handcuffs, and then Ten sliding through the enlarged holes in the sides.

Showering with one arm hanging out so that Ten didn’t have to shower with him turned out to be more complicated than expected. He only had one hand, and when he couldn’t quite reach things, he had to pull Ten’s arm into the shower, which only made the other boy complain about getting wet. So they argued about that until Doyoung’s shower was over, and then he traded places with Ten.

Everything was mostly good up until that point. They were running on schedule. They hadn’t seen each other dicks. Doyoung happily brushed his teeth while he waited for Ten to stop getting soap on his hand that dangled just inside the shower.

Everything should have gone fine.

But, since it was the two of them, of course it didn’t.

First, Ten sneezed, which wrenched Doyoung halfway back into the shower. And then Ten turned abruptly, trying to escape the tumbling Doyoung, which only made Doyoung crash the rest of the way into the shower, lose his balance, and fall to the floor. Ten fell with him, landing right on top of Doyoung.

Doyoung’s hip and back smarted from the fall. He groaned and laid his head down, not even caring that he was getting completely wet again.

On top of him, Ten groaned as well. Their arms were twisted uncomfortably between them, and somehow, the fall hadn’t broken the handcuffs even a little. Ten sat up and shook out his wrist. “That hurt.”

“It’s your fault. You pulled me in here.”

“Not on purpose!”

“Maybe not, but you did. Get off of me. Help me up.” Doyoung squirmed.

Ten stood up, and Doyoung averted his eyes. Ten grabbed Doyoung’s hand and helped him to his feet. Doyoung was grateful that his towel, although soaking wet now, still clung to his hips because as soon as he was upright again, Ten’s hands began to flutter over Doyoung’s body.

“What are you doing?” He slapped at one of Ten’s hands.

“You’re not hurt are you? How many fingers am I holding up?” He waved a few fingers in front of Doyoung’s eyes, too quick for Doyoung to even be able to get a look at them. “What hurts? You mostly cushioned my fall, so I figure you must be hurt somewhere, right?”

Doyoung shook his head and brushed the curtain out of his way to step out of the shower. “I’m fine. My back hurts, but I’ll be fine. Hurry up. We still need to get dressed and I need to go.”

Ten made a face and jerked the curtain back into place. Doyoung dripped on the floor. His hip was almost burning from the fall, but he was sure nothing was broken. He would just be a bit bruised.

As soon as Ten shut off the shower, Doyoung threw a towel at him and marched out of the bathroom back towards Jeno’s borrowed room. Getting dressed was just as complicated as Doyoung had known it would be. Putting on pants was nothing difficult, but shirts were a bit more complicated. Since it was mid-summer it wasn’t a horrible idea to wear tops similar to what Doyoung had worn the night before, so he put one on again, and Ten put one on as well.

Doyoung wasn’t sure how enthusiastic their staff would be when they saw what he and Ten were wearing, but it wasn’t like they had much choice.

It was still early in the morning, around four o’clock when they were finally finished getting dressed. Despite the early hour, three members were already in the kitchen eating breakfast before they headed out to their own schedules for the day. Taeil, Yuta, and Jaehyun.

“This really won’t work, Yuta hyung. We nearly died trying to shower.” Doyoung whined, showing off the forming bruise on his hip. Ten yanked up his shirt to show a similar pattern. “And thankfully the weather’s warm enough that we can get away with being dressed like this. Do you have any clue how difficult it is to get dressed when you can only get one arm in a shirt?”

Yuta watched, half a smile on his lips. Jaehyun was doubled over in silent laughter, his shaking shoulders visible above the table’s edge. Taeil was laughing as well, covering his mouth as if they wouldn’t be able to tell he was laughing.

“How am I supposed to be dressed decently for Inkigayo? You think they’ll let me on the show like this?” Doyoung gestured at the gaping holes in his top.

Yuta shrugged that same annoying shrug he kept offering as an answer.

Doyoung clamped his mouth shut. He wouldn’t swear at his elders. It was bad manners, no matter how painfully the words clawed their way up his throat. They simmered, poison in his mouth, caged behind his teeth.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. His ride was there.

He smacked Jaehyun on the back on their way out, and the younger guy yelped.

The manager that was waiting for Doyoung in the van blinked in surprise when he saw Ten coming out with Doyoung, and then his eyes fell on the handcuffs. He didn’t say anything until the two guys were situated in their seats, buckled in.

“What is this?” He asked, staring pointedly at the cuffs.

“The other members say we argue too much,” Ten answered. “Yuta hyung thought this was a good way to get us to stop. He wouldn’t take them off of us.”

Doyoung nodded and stared out the window.

Then the manager laughed. Doyoung looked back at him, and he just laughed. “You do argue a lot. It might be a bit of a problem to work around, but it works with the concept of the album and I think it might just work with your issues.”

Doyoung felt anger rising up again. “We don’t have issues!”

The manager raised an eyebrow. “Of course not. I’m going to call ahead and inform the necessary people of the change in plans.”

Doyoung threw a glare over at Ten for good measure, and then stared resolutely out the van window for the duration of the trip.

\- - -

“This is interesting.” Jinyoung commented as soon as Doyoung and Ten entered the room. His eyes snagged against Doyoung’s in the mirror, sliding down to the cuffs.

“Our members are assholes.” Ten explained. “Hello, I’m Ten.”

Jinyoung nodded. “I know who you are. Doyoung talks about you a lot.”

Doyoung frowned first at Jinyoung and then again at Ten. “It’s not talking. It’s complaining because you’re annoying.” Then to Jinyoung again, “Yuta hyung thought that these,” he gestured with their joined hands, “would help us resolve our issues faster than Taeyong hyung’s idea of holding hands. He refuses to let us out of them. Even our staff seems to think it’s not a bad idea.”

Their manager had called everyone important while they were in the van, and after laughing far too often, he and everyone else had somehow come to the conclusion that it wasn’t a horrible idea. Doyoung’s insides were a mixture of anger and guilt—if everyone thought handcuffing he and Ten together to get rid of their aggression was a good idea, then had they really been arguing that much to annoy everyone?

“It’s caused the stylists to stress.” Jinyoung nodded over to the racks of clothes. The stylists were frantically searching through the clothes, and Doyoung knew they were probably trying to decided which tops would be easiest to strip apart and sew back together on Doyoung and Ten’s bodies. Because, of course, now Ten was going to be a guest host on that day’s episode.

Jinyoung kept joking with them as they stood watching the groups rehearse. Ten kept waving at people he was friendly with, which meant that Doyoung’s arm flew up to wave as well, although it was a limp, involuntary wave. The dull aching burn of Doyoung’s wrist was beginning to become very, very tiresome. When the time finally came for the three of them to rehearse their scripts, a staff member rushed over to hand them the new scripts.

“Smile, joke about the cuffs. We’ve written some things into the script.” The staff member said, handing them their lines.

Jinyoung laughed as he flipped through it quickly, and that was another thing that Doyoung was getting very tired of; everyone was constantly laughing at them.

Doyoung thought this was all very stupid. Everyone was having to rearrange things just to fit in Ten, and a much easier solution would have been to get rid of the cuffs. Now the writers were fitting in lines for Ten, putting in jokes about the cuffs, mentioning hints about NCT’s comeback. The stylists were fussing. It was all very stupid. He must have muttered it to Ten a dozen times. Ten seemed to like the attention.

“Of course you like all this, you narcissist.” Doyoung hissed, jabbing Ten with his elbow.

“I’m not a narcissist, and this is funny, Doyoung. It would be so much easier to just get rid of the cuffs, but they’re all going out of their way for this.” He smiled, a ridiculously bright expression given their situation. “Let’s go. Rehearsals won’t wait.”

After they rehearsed, they were sat down together to be sewn into their shirts, and if the stylist hadn’t poked Doyoung so many times, maybe he would have found the situation a little amusing, but with each small accidental prick, he found the whole situation less and less funny. Even as he sat in a chair for hair and makeup, he couldn’t forget that he was handcuffed to Ten because those staff members were teasing them about it as well.

It was lucky that Doyoung was so talented at separating his stage self from his real self otherwise walking on stage for the live show would have had him exploding in anger.

Ten kept nervously jangling their handcuffs. Luckily, the sleeve of the tops they wore slipped between the cuff and skin, so there was at last some relief from the constant grating of metal on skin. Nevertheless, the sound of the chain in movement was annoying.

Doyoung grabbed Ten’s hand. “Stop moving.”

Ten had that look in his eyes again, the same he’d had when they were in front of that crowd not long ago. He was nervous and afraid.

Once again, Doyoung felt that urge to protect seeping through him. He squeezed Ten’s hand. “Just remember your lines, pretend we’re happy about these cuffs, and it’ll be over before you know it.”

“The media’s going to jump on this, aren’t they?” Ten shook his hand, and his cuff knocked against Doyoung’s wrist. “I’m just nervous about how the audience is going to react.”

Doyoung watched Ten’s face. He noticed all the little nervous ticks, the way that his voice pitched up slightly and his eyes didn’t remain in any one spot for too long. With their hands clasped (to keep Ten from jangling, Doyoung reminded himself), Doyoung could feel Ten’s heart racing, the nervous sweat a thin layer between their palms, and he knew it had been a little while since Ten was on stage, but he didn’t think the other boy would be so nervous.

“Just do that old classic: imagine the audience in their underwear if you’re nervous.”

“I’m not sure that’ll do the trick,” Ten admitted.

“You’ll be fine, Ten. You’ve been doing things like this for years. Relax.” In a more serious, much more normal voice compared to the soothing tone he’d been using, Doyoung warned, “Don’t screw this up for me.”

Ten let out a shaky laugh. “No pressure.”

“None at all.”

Doyoung squeezed Ten’s hand reassuringly one last time and then let go and walked on stage.

Other than one minor mishap when Ten stumbled over one of his lines, the episode went well. The audience found the handcuffs funny. In the van on their way to the practice room afterwards, Ten scrolled through SNS and read off fan reactions to the handcuffs, all the speculation about what it meant for the comeback or if it had an ulterior meaning. None of the fans guessed the real reason correctly, but how could they?

The other members and their choreographer were gathered in the practice room already.

Doyoung and Ten were once again dressed in their loose tops, the bruises from that morning clear on their sides through the gaping holes. Yuta, Jaehyun, Taeyong, and Haechan watched their calm appearance as they walked through the door.

“We saw you on TV,” Haechan said. “It was funny. You looked good.”

Doyoung didn’t say anything, but Ten did.

“These handcuffs aren’t the least bit comfortable. Everyone laughed at us. Yuta hyung. . .” He said a few word in Thai, and once again, Doyoung was sure that it was a swear or at least an insult. He looked like he wanted Yuta to feel offended, and although Doyoung was sure Yuta didn’t understand the words either, he did look a bit insulted. “Let’s start practice.”

No one argued with him.

There was a look on Ten’s face that wasn’t usually there. Something seemed to have set him off, and now Ten’s face was full of rage. He moved across the room toward the speakers and Doyoung had no choice but to be dragged along. Ten plugged his phone in and scrolled through it, finding their tracks.

“What’s wrong with you?” Doyoung asked while Ten did that. “What got your panties in a bunch?”

Ten scoffed and made a face, but otherwise ignored the fact that Doyoung was even standing there.

Ten danced furiously, nearly wrenching Doyoung’s shoulder out of socket, nearly tripping him up half a dozen times. It was only after Doyoung cried out in pain and grabbed Ten’s arm that the other boy even slowed down. Taeyong had to call for him to stop entirely. Doyoung stood close to Ten so that there was no tension on the cuffs.

“I think it’s safe to say that the choreography isn’t going to work with them stuck together like that.” Their choreographer wasn’t pleased about the handcuffs, which made Doyoung happy. Finally, someone was as disappointed with the handcuffs as Doyoung and Ten. “We’re going to have to rework the choreography for the song unless _you_ ,” this the choreographer directed at Yuta, “would like to fix this.”

Still, Yuta refused.

Ten angrily pinched at Doyoung’s wrist, taking out his feelings on him. Doyoung pinched him back.

The choreographer clapped, drawing their attention back around to him. “For now, Ten, I need you to act more like your normal self. Help me think up a new choreo. One that won’t kill either of you to perform.”

Ten took a deep breath. And another one.

Slowly, the anger seemed to drain out of him. Standing as close as they were, Doyoung could see the tension easing away, his muscles relaxing.

Rehearsal ran much smoother after that with Ten and Doyoung slowly working through the new moves they created. There was still a tightness around Ten’s eyes, and Doyoung hadn’t shaken the feeling from earlier before Inkigayo, the one where he felt the urge to protect Ten.

They stayed long after the others left because the new moves were only for them, and since Ten had painstakingly spent the last few hours creating them, Doyoung needed a bit more practice. Neither of them had anything on their schedule the next day except for more practice, so they stayed until they’d exhausted themselves.

Doyoung was drenched in sweat, his shoulders were both sore, and he was ready to fall instantly asleep. He wanted to call their after-hours practice to an end, but Ten was still buzzing with energy. Doyoung was pretty sure Ten was burning off the last of that surprising anger from earlier. He dragged Doyoung through the motions, twisting himself in Doyoung’s arms, spinning away until the chain was pulled taut between their outstretched limbs. Watching their reflections in the mirror, Doyoung almost thought it looked like ballet, not that he’d seen much ballet, but the dance reminded him of lovers coming together and being torn apart again and again.

A little after one o’clock in the morning, Doyoung was worn out beyond belief. He collided with Ten’s body as they tried to move around each other.

Before Ten could shout at him (again), Doyoung whined, “I’m tired. It’s late. Can’t we go back to the dorm and sleep?”

Ten, who was also thoroughly drenched in sweat, shook his hair out of his eyes. He glanced at the clock on the wall, and then down to where Doyoung sat at his feet.

“We have practice tomorrow. Personally, I think I’ve improved.” Doyoung stood up, dragging his shirt up from his torso to wipe at his face.

“Yeah,” Ten cleared his throat, and for the first time in hours, his voice was back to the usual softness. Doyoung dropped his shirt back over his stomach, and looked up to find Ten watching him. He nodded. “Yeah, let’s go back to the dorm.”

\- - -

Over the next few days, they completely reworked the choreography in order for Doyoung and Ten’s handcuffs to not be an issue at all. On top of the sore wrists, the number of bruises, the fact that they still had to be sewn into shirts each morning, and now the choreography being reworked, there were a dozen other issues that had arisen.

Doyoung was still stuck on some parts of the new choreography, but he was grateful that the other members were at least jealous that he and Ten had the center for most of the choreography except for one weird move where Yuta jumped over their arms and stole center stage.

The actual issues that were still brought about by the presence of the handcuffs were that they still fought quite a bit. Maybe not as much as they had in the weeks leading up to Yuta’s idea, but still far more than the other members liked. If at all possible, Doyoung had noticed, the others tried to abandon ship when Doyoung and Ten were in the dorm.

More and more often, Ten seemed to be the one picking the fights, starting them over silly things when he became enraged from nowhere.

Not that it was entirely Ten’s fault.

Doyoung easily flared up in response, and his other emotions were affected just as quickly. He was constantly overwhelmed with ridiculous protectiveness, embarrassment over even the slightest things, and he’d even found that when Ten was happy about something or when Ten did something well, Doyoung was just as likely to smile or be proud. It was all very strange. He was almost certain that Yuta’s handcuffs were cursed and were manipulating his emotions, but Doyoung wasn’t likely to mention that to anyone.

Being stuck almost entirely with each other’s presence wasn’t doing anything for them. They were constantly riding the pendulum between being at each other’s throats and simply not speaking to each other for long, cold silences. From what Doyoung had overheard, the mood swings were driving the other members insane, and luckily Johnny was willing to take one for the team.

While Ten and Doyoung were chained together by the handcuffs, their staff had tried to minimize the two of them needing to be out in public. So one evening while half of the group needed to make an appearance at an award show, Ten and Doyoung were left at the dorm along with a few others, including Johnny.

The others fled the dorm when they realized that Ten and Doyoung were going to be there. Johnny stayed to act as a mediator.

It was the first night off that Doyoung had experienced in a while. Probably, they could have spent that time practicing again, but Ten had spent the tail end of practice earlier in the day complaining about the soreness in his upper arm, so Doyoung decided that a simple night watching movies on the couch sounded like a good idea. Plus, he’d been wanting to watch Kong Skull Island since it came out the previous summer.

“I want to watch it too,” Johnny insisted, appearing from nowhere to settle down on Ten’s other side on the sofa. It wasn’t a big couch, and Doyoung wanted to complain about Johnny joining them on that particular piece of furniture when there was no particular reason that he had to sit so close. He certainly wasn’t handcuffed to Ten.

Johnny’s arm soon draped over Ten’s shoulders as he spread out on the couch, taking up about half of it, which left Doyoung crammed in one corner, trying not to sit on top of Ten, who looked tiny sitting there between them.

The longer the movie went on, the less Ten seemed to be paying any attention. The glare of his phone screen kept distracting Doyoung from the movie, along with the occasional whispers between Ten and Johnny. He understood that maybe Ten wasn’t interested in the movie, he had to be there thanks to Yuta, but Johnny said he wanted to watch the movie and he kept talking through it.

After a little while, the whispers fell silent, but Ten was still on his phone.

Doyoung tried his best to focus on the movie.

About three-fourths of the way into the movie, Ten started shifting around, raising their connected arms to mess with his hair or something. The first few times it didn’t bother him, but then it kept happening, and Doyoung looked away from the TV.

Ten sniffled.

A loud crash on screen was accompanied by a flash of light through the otherwise dark room. The whiteness reflected silver off of Ten’s cheeks.

“Are you crying, Ten?” Doyoung asked, reaching up with his free hand to touch the wetness on the other boy’s cheeks.

“I’m not crying. Don’t touch me.” Ten swatted his hand away.

Johnny looked over, and he chuckled then he reached up to wipe at Ten’s cheeks. Doyoung noticed Ten didn’t complain then.

“If you’re not crying then why are your cheeks wet?” Doyoung asked as more tears bubbled down the Thai boy’s cheeks. “This movie isn’t even sad, not that you’re even watching it. What’s on your phone?”

He made a grab for Ten’s phone.

“Knock it off, Doyoung.” Johnny commanded, grabbing Ten’s phone and stuffing it down between the cushions as far from Doyoung as possible. “Just watch the movie, and leave Ten alone.”

“Well I can’t exactly leave him alone, can I?” Doyoung lifted his arm, and Ten’s came with it. Doyoung shook their hands.

“Try your best.” Johnny said in a tone that really told Doyoung to shut up.

A moment later, Ten laid his head on Johnny’s shoulder.

Something cold and heavy spread through Doyoung’s gut. He looked away, back to the movie screen, but he couldn’t seem to focus on the story anymore. It was all just quick movements and flashes while his mind was preoccupied mulling over the points of contact between Ten and Johnny and what possible reason Ten could have had for crying.

Before long, the credits were rolling and Doyoung wasn’t sure at all what had happened for the ending. Ten still had his head on Johnny’s shoulder as the older boy combed his fingers through Ten’s hair. Johnny caught Doyoung staring, and he lifted his eyebrows inquisitively.

Doyoung looked away.

“Want to watch another?” He asked, not even certain that he’d be able to pay attention to a second film more than the last.

Johnny shook his head, eased Ten off his shoulder, and stood up. “I’m going to head to bed. If you want to watch another, I’ll put it in for you.” He waved at the movie collection and the TV, but Ten shook his head and said something about sleep. Johnny still walked across the room and took the movie out of the DVD player for them.

Ten curled up on the couch, suddenly even smaller than Doyoung thought he’d ever seen him before.

Johnny put the movie back in its place and told them goodnight before walking away. When Doyoung thought he was out of earshot, he nudged Ten.

“What’s with you and Johnny?” Doyoung asked, watching the older boy’s back vanish toward his room.

Ten didn’t say anything.

“Well, if you won’t answer that, then why were you crying?”

Ten looked up at him with something dark and hateful curling his lip. “That’s none of your business.” He fetched his phone from the other side of the couch and stood up, “I’m tired. Let’s go to bed.”

Doyoung stood up, but he didn’t make a move to leave. “Why won’t you answer any of my questions? I just want to know why Johnny hyung felt like he could comfort you. Why did you smack me away when I tried to help but you let him coddle you? Why are we any different?”

Ten tried to walk away then without answering anything, but he only made it a few feet. Doyoung didn’t move.

“God, can’t you just—“ Clearly frustrated, Ten grabbed the handcuff’s chain in one hand and Doyoung’s wrist with the other. He tugged as if he could use his own strength to snap the chain. He tugged until his wrist was turning red and Doyoung’s skin burned white under the pressure of Ten’s hold. “I just want to be alone for, like, five minutes!”

Carefully, Doyoung reached down to pull Ten’s hand off his wrist. If Ten kept pulling at the cuffs much longer, it looked to Doyoung like the other boy would break the skin around Ten’s wrist. He understood the need to be alone. How many times over the past week and a half had Doyoung wanted to be alone? They needed privacy for various reasons and they just couldn’t get it. There was no time to relieve stress by crying or stress-eating late at night or any of the various other ways that no one ever talked about. He wanted to be alone too, but for now, they were stuck together.

He dropped Ten’s hand.

“Sorry, I don’t think being alone is a possibility for now, Ten.”

Ten nearly growled as he said, “Well, try to give me a break. Take a sleeping pill or knock yourself out or something.” His eyes were wet again, and Doyoung fought that urge to wipe away the tears. He knew that it would just result in Ten slapping his hand away again, so he did nothing.

After a few seconds, Ten turned and led the way to their room.

Doyoung followed. Ten was being weird, suddenly full of sad frustration instead of that hot anger from before. It didn’t help that now, because of Ten’s emotions, Doyung was experiencing some other unfamiliar emotions.

As soon as they were inside the room, Doyoung laid down on the bed, and asked, “Won’t you please tell me what’s wrong with you?”

Ten didn’t say anything at first, simply searched through his bag for a few moments, then he climbed into the bed too. He lay on his side, facing Doyoung, and it was one of the closest moments they’d had in months, probably, and there were no barriers between them, no masks of fake faces. “I’m stressed, Doyoung.” A dangerous mixture of emotions flashed across Ten’s face. “And I’m tired and I’m handcuffed to you of all people!”

“Me of all people?” Doyoung frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just shut up.” Ten rolled over, and Doyoung had no choice but to roll over as well.

His arm fell over Ten’s hips, and then it was his turn to say, “I’m not trying to spoon you, you know. This isn’t me trying to cuddle the stress out of you.”

Ten made an indecipherable noise.

Doyoung ended up sliding closer to him as the mattress had a dip in the middle, and they both sank down into it. Ten rested slightly back on Doyoung’s chest. Neither of them were asleep yet, and neither of them said anything about the fact that now they were most definitely spooning.

The dorm was quiet with everyone away. It was still rather early in the evening considering how late most of their nights ran, and although Doyoung probably could’ve been asleep in an instant if he would just close his eyes, he felt like sleep was miles away. Lying as they were with Ten’s back on his chest, his arm curled over Ten’s waist (and really their whole bodies pressed together), Doyoung could feel Ten’s heartbeat, steady and warm. Ten was very warm and soft yet firm in some places.

He couldn’t help the way his mind wandered.

He knew Ten wasn’t asleep. He could hear the changes in his breathing, could practically hear him thinking. That almost made everything even worse.

“Doyoung?” Ten whispered after a little while.

Doyoung had to try twice to get his voice to come out. A quiet, “Yeah?”

“I can feel your boner on my ass.”

Doyoung’s face was hot. “I know. Sorry.” He tried to put some distance between himself and Ten, but the dip in the mattress made that a lot more difficult. “Maybe you solve your stress by crying, but I normally. . . resolve stress in a different way.”

He tried to close his eyes and will away the hard on. A little bit of warm body-to-body contact and he was hard. What was he, a teenager? Doyoung squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassed that this had happened. Honestly, he was a little surprised it hadn’t happened in any of the week and a half they’d been sharing a bed already, but he almost wished it would have happened to Ten instead of him. Ten was probably thinking the same thing.

Ten sighed. “I’m going to sleep now. Wait until you know I’m out before you even try to take care of that, and I better not wake up in the morning with your jizz on my hand.”

Doyoung’s face felt impossibly hotter. He wasn’t going to jerk off when Ten was in the same bed as him. He was going to will away the boner.

By the time he managed to will it away using a macabre collection of images stored in his brain precisely for situations exactly like that, Ten was snoring again, his face smashed into the pillow in a very unattractive way. Doyoung spent a few minutes trying to lull himself to sleep by staring at the way the moonlight coming through the open window played off Ten’s cheeks, painting him in silver-blue light.

\- - -

After two whole weeks being handcuffed together, Doyoung was sure most people were annoyed with the inconvenience of it. Their stylists were certainly annoyed at having to sew them into clothes each morning. Half of the members refused to be in the same room with them, and the other half was tired of forgetting about the handcuffs and accidentally getting clotheslined by the two boys. Doyoung and Ten were still just as displeased, but they were happily pretending that Doyoung’s boner had never been pressed in any way against Ten’s body.

It was easy enough to forget.

They just argued instead.

Any time that Doyoung was reminded of it, he looked for the nearest possible thing he could blame Ten for, and he did. He was sure there was a psychological term for what he was doing—transferring all of his emotions about this whole Ten situation into one single emotion: anger, specifically anger towards Ten for random things outside of Ten’s control.

They argued all the way to the practice room. They argued in the dorm. They argued when Jisung asked them about how long they’d been handcuffed together exactly. They argued all the more because of stress and increasing lack of sleep.

With their comeback in a few days, they should have gotten more sleep than they were getting. Doyoung hadn’t slept well the past few nights because of Ten’s snoring and general over-thinking of everything (the boner, the handcuffs, the comeback, life). His tiredness was manifesting as annoyance.

At the moment, that annoyance meant when they were doing a full rehearsal with the choreography all the way through while singing or rapping their own parts and Ten screwed up one line, Doyoung felt the first lick of an argument catching on his insides, and he knew that it would consume him soon. He was so distracted by his anger that he stumbled in the choreography.

Everyone else was smooth and perfect in their delivery.

Their choreographer showed them the video of the practice, although Doyoung didn’t need a video to know that Ten had messed up. He glared at Ten the whole time the other boy stood pressed shoulder to shoulder with the other members to monitor the rehearsal.

“We’re done for the day. Stay and practice a little if you need to, but we definitely need to do better tomorrow.” The choreographer told them, and then he left the room quickly, perhaps feeling the rising tension between the two boys.

Then it was only the members.

Doyoung turned to Ten.

“We’ve got the showcase and our comeback stage in a few days, Ten! Get the lyrics right!” Doyoung shoved Ten’s shoulders, and the other boy stumbled backward. Doyoung went with him of course, and he shoved him again. Together, they went crashing to the floor, but somehow Ten turned them so Doyoung’s back hit the ground first.

“I’ll sing right if you get the dance right!” Ten wrestled with Doyoung’s arms, but Doyoung pushed him over, rolling Ten onto his back. Ten grunted and shoved at Doyoung’s shoulder but Doyoung didn’t budge. “You can’t even get the turn right, Doyoung. That’s one of the easiest moves!”

One of Ten’s strong calves wrapped around Doyoung’s leg, knocking it out from under him and then Ten was on top of him again with a victorious smile.

“I dance just fine,” Doyoung huffed as the air swelled his lungs again. “That’s why I’ve been in three sub units now. That’s why I haven’t hardly been inactive at all since our debut. Unlike you.”

Something behind Ten’s eyes broke. Somewhere inside of Doyoung, he wondered if he’d gone too far. There was a moment of weakness on Ten’s face, clearly affected by Doyoung’s words. And then, just as quickly it was gone again, and they were wrestling again, rolling across the practice room floor, the other members jumping out of their way. Doyoung thought he heard Jaehyun calling out moves for them to try on each other, Taeyong and Yuta were doing the opposite, but no one tried to physically stop them.

After what felt like ten minutes of rolling, Doyoung finally pinned Ten to the floor again. His right hand went around Ten’s throat, just enough pressure that Ten could feel it, not enough to do any damage. Ten smiled that same smile from weeks ago when Doyoung did that the first time. His left hand and Ten’s right were tangled on the floor beside Ten’s head. Their chests rose and fell, breathing heavily, faces only inches apart, and Doyoung straddling Ten’s thighs, pinning him down as completely as he could.

Behind them, there was a sigh.

“I really thought the handcuffs were helping,” Yuta said, “Yet here the two of you are again, biting each other’s heads off. You’re both ridiculous. I’m not staying around to watch them kill each other.”

He left the room.

Doyoung didn’t look away from Ten. He only heard the sound of the others shuffling out of the practice room.

Ten’s eyes were bright, but his pupils were dark, hungry circles expanding even as Doyoung looked down at him. Ten licked his lips as if he was about to speak. Doyoung’s hand around Ten’s throat flexed just slightly, not even intentionally, and Ten’s lips parted just enough to let out a sigh.

Someone cleared their throat near the door, and Doyoung realized they weren’t alone. A quick glance up showed it was Johnny, but Doyoung looked back down to Ten. Ten who was still looking up at Doyoung, that teasing smile on his lips.

Johnny clapped his hands together, drawing their attention to him.

Doyoung’s gaze stuck this time on the older man. Johnny looked angry too.

“I’m so tired of this.” Johnny gestured at them. “Even with those handcuffs, the two of you are unbelievable. I get you’re both tired, but so are we, and you don’t see any of us ripping each other’s heads off. You either need to get some sleep or sleep together.”

Doyoung slid his gaze back down to Ten, whose cheeks were a pretty shade of embarrassed and flustered.

“That—Johnny hyung, that’s not. . .” Doyoung tried to say, forcing his gaze away from the blood heating Ten’s face.

Ten jerked his arm. Doyoung hissed. His wrist was so sore.

“Stop that!” He grabbed Ten’s wrist, pinning it firmly to the floor. He barely noticed when Ten squirmed beneath him, shifting between Doyoung’s thighs.

Johnny, however, did notice, and he mocked Doyoung in a horrible falsetto, “That’s not. . . That’s not at all!” And returning to his normal pitch, he said, “Yeah, it is. Find your own way back to the dorm. We’re not waiting for either of you.” And with that said, he left the room, leaving them completely alone again.

Doyoung’s hand was still on Ten’s throat. Ten’s fingers curled around Doyoung’s wrist, but he didn’t make any effort to move Doyoung away. He gazed up at Doyoung, hot tears forming in the corners of his eyes, but they weren’t real tears Doyoung didn’t think, not when Ten was smiling up at him in that way. They looked like tears of frustration or embarrassment or maybe even some strange emotion like happiness, which didn’t make much since as a combination, but Doyoung couldn’t seem to tell which they were.

Ten shifted beneath him again.

He rolled his hips, and Doyoung felt the nudge of a hard bulge against his inner thigh. He glanced down.

“Johnny’s not wrong about this.” Ten gasped as Doyoung finally removed his hand from his throat. Instead, Doyoung pressed his hand to the practice room floor beside Ten’s head. “Maybe we should do something about this tension between us.” Ten rolled his hips upward again.

Doyoung fought the urge to grind down.

He’d come to terms long ago that he was gay. He knew he liked men. That wasn’t why he scrambled off of Ten so fast that the other boy was flung into a sitting position like a ragdoll.

Ten swore as Doyoung’s movement jolted his shoulder, and he pushed himself up the rest of the way until he was standing. Doyoung never took his eyes off of him. Ten licked his lips and put a hand on Doyoung’s chest. Doyoung’s heart pounded beneath his touch, undeniably increasing with every passing second.

He wouldn’t let himself do this. It was just asking for trouble. More trouble.

“No,” Doyoung took another step back. Ten’s hand fell away, and the chain of the handcuff’s between them jangled. “It’s late, Ten. We have to find a way back to the dorm. Johnny’s right. We need to sleep. Once we’ve made our comeback, we won’t be nearly as stressed, and all of this tension between us will go away. It’s just all the stress that’s made us so argumentative.”

He said those words out loud to reassure Ten as much as to reassure himself.

Ten rolled his shoulders and dropped his head forward, hiding his expression from Doyoung. “Right. We need to sleep.” He jerked on the handcuffs. “Let’s go.”

They called a taxi to take them home. Ten didn’t say a word or look in Doyoung’s direction the whole time.

\- - -

Things were almost somehow worse after that.

They didn’t speak at all to each other. They moved through the motions of their days without actually acknowledging the other. Dance practices were silent moves—if a black and white filter had been placed over them, it would have seemed like an old silent movie.

Doyoung could tell the rest of the group felt unsettled by the sudden absolute lack of communication. He’d even overheard Yuta muttering to Taeyong, wondering if he should unlock them just to fix whatever had happened. The sad thing was, that when he’d heard that, Doyoung had wanted to tell Ten right away, but then he remembered their silence.

Most awkward of all anymore was showering.

It was awkward for a number of reasons.

First, they weren’t speaking to each other and it was uncomfortable to be naked in the same room and not speaking or even acknowledging the other person was there.

Second, Ten was clearly uneasy about being naked in the same room as Doyoung after what he perceived to be a rejection. He probably thought Doyoung was digusted by him and the proposition he’d made that night in the practice room. But that wasn’t the truth at all, which brings us to the third reason.

Third, Doyoung felt awkward because he spent the entire time he was standing naked in the bathroom, no matter which side of the shower curtain he was on, trying to not think about Ten being naked just a foot or two away. To be entirely honest, Doyoung hadn’t truly thought of Ten in a sexual way before they were handcuffed together. Like, maybe before when he’d been relieving stress by jerking off, he’d imagined a guy that may have had some of Ten’s qualities, but that wasn’t abnormal. He’d once imagined Taeyong sucking him off, and there was one really weird fantasy he’d had that Jaehyun somehow became involved in, but never before had Ten truly been involved in one of Doyoung’s jerk off scenarios. Yet now he had all of these feelings, all of this frustration bottled up inside of him, and he wasn’t allowing himself to make a move; Doyoung was faced each day with a naked Ten and he couldn’t think about him even though now he was all that Doyoung seemed to be able to think about.

Basically, it was hell for everyone involved.

They had two days before their showcase and then their comeback stage on M Countdown the following day. Tensions were at an all time high, even some of the other members had broken into snippy arguments. Doyoung and Ten stayed quiet, moving in silent tandem through rehearsal and through the dorm. Doyoung knew it struck everyone as eerie. It bothered him as well.

He and Ten had woken up that morning at different times but in a familiar position: spooning. Ten was spooning Doyoung, arms wrapped around him, grinding his erection against Doyoung when Doyoung woke. It took Ten a few minutes longer to wake, and in that time between, Doyoung was frozen in surprise, getting hard himself from Ten grinding against him. As soon as Ten woke, he rolled away, swearing.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t acknowledge Ten’s actions in bed or those that followed in the shower. Doyoung brought out his arsenal of turn-offs, imagining them as he listened to Ten try not to make any sounds in the shower, although it was clear what he was doing.

They went to practice. They danced and didn’t speak. They hit every move right, every note. Their performance was perfect. They rehearsed all day and it should have been enough, it should have exhausted them enough that by the time they returned to the dorm that night, Doyoung shouldn’t have still been thinking of Ten humping him in his sleep. He shouldn’t still have been alternating those thoughts with horrible images to keep himself from getting hard.

By the time they walked into the dorm, Yuta was waiting for them along with Johnny and Taeil and Taeyong, several of the others were sitting around the TV, playing video games and not paying any attention to what the older boys were doing.

“I’ll take the handcuffs off now.” Yuta said, swinging the tiny key around his finger. “But you have to swear that you won’t go back to fighting like before.”

“I swear,” Doyoung said, already thrusting his arm toward Yuta. “Just take these damn things off.”

Yuta looked to Ten.

Ten nodded. “I swear.”

Yuta seemed satisfied and unlocked the cuff around Ten’s wrist first. Doyoung watched as a blank expression washed over Ten’s features and he rubbed at his wrist. Freedom must have felt nice, but a part of Doyoung already missed knowing that Ten would be stuck with him wherever he went. A small smile graced Ten’s lips, and his gaze flickered up to meet Doyoung’s again.

Yuta unlocked the cuff on Doyoung’s wrist. The metal cuffs and the chain clattered noisily to the floor. He rubbed at his wrist, staring down at it for a moment to take note of how strange it felt to see his wrist unadorned except for the faint bruising and slight red marks where the metal had dug in too far.

“Thank God I don’t have to be chained to you anymore.” Ten’s voice was sudden, surprising. The first words they’d said to each other in days. Ten’s gaze was riveted on Doyoung, a daring gleam in his eyes. That was different from any look he’d received since the other night. This look was begging, tempting, asking Doyoung to want him.

Doyoung moved quickly, pinning Ten back against the nearest wall, his arm pressed into Ten’s chest. Their breath mingled, their eyes met.

“Hey!” Taeyong and Yuta called in unison.

Doyoung smirked down at Ten. He wanted him, too.

That fact seemed to dawn on Ten, and he raised both eyebrows and smiled, “Yeah?”

Doyoung nodded almost imperceptibly. “Yeah.”

Ten shoved at Doyoung’s shoulders, and when Doyoung took a step back, Ten shoved again. Doyoung curled his hand around the back of Ten’s neck. Ten grunted and took a step toward the hall. Doyoung pushed, and together they moved down the hall. To the older guys watching, it must have looked like Doyoung was wrestling Ten down the hallway because Taeyong started to call out after them, following them.

Behind him, Doyoung heard Johnny say, “Let them go. Seriously, I don’t think you want to walk in there and try to stop that.”

“What--?”

The rest of what was said didn’t matter, and Doyoung couldn’t hear it. Ten kicked the door of their borrowed room shut behind them.

To everyone else, it must have looked like this came from nowhere, to Doyoung, it felt like it had been coming for ages stretching and stretching until now it snapped.

He flicked the lock on the door and in the same moment pushed Ten back against the wall, his hand on the other boy’s throat, this time gently. He saw the shape of his hand on Ten’s throat, the shadow of his fingers, not the burning white of pressure, and he leaned in to taste the shadows, moving his hand down to rest on Ten’s chest over his rapidly beating heart.

In the moment before this, he whispered: “I wish I could hate you. It would make all of this so much easier.”

In the moment after, he did this: Doyoung pressed his lips to the pulse point on Ten’s throat, feeling Ten’s heartbeat galloping. Ten’s fingers braided through Doyoung’s hair, and his nails scratched lightly over his scalp. He tasted like sweat from practice, like lust suppressed over years, like a dream.

“You could never hate me.” Ten sighed, tugging at Doyoung’s hair, and he dragged Doyoung up to face him.

Doyoung searched Ten’s face, eyes catching every detail of him. His lips were shiny from spit, pink and ready to be kissed, parted temptingly. His cheeks were flushed. And then Doyoung found his eyes. They were wide and dark, molten and brimming with that same look Doyoung had caught the first night when he fit his hand around Ten’s throat. It was only now that he recognized it for what it was: lust. Pure passion-fired lust.

“I never hated you,” Ten sighed. One of his hands reached up to brush over Doyoung’s cheek. “All along. Every time you did something that made me realize that I wanted this, I fought with you instead.” His thumb traced over Doyoung’s bottom lip. “All I wanted was to kiss you.”

Doyoung didn’t hesitate. He couldn’t wait any longer, not with Ten looking at him with his eyes hooded, his tone longing.

Doyoung dipped forward and kissed Ten’s lips.

Ten kept his hand on Doyoung’s face, fingertips light on his cheek. His eyelashes tickled Doyoung’s cheek, and he gasped softly into the kiss.

It was a soft moment considering the two of them and their past. There was no violence, no warring for dominance. Doyoung let Ten take control of the kiss, the shorter boy pushing up on his toes to put them closer to the same height, and he parted Doyoung’s lips, licking into his mouth.

“Baby,” Doyoung murmured, his hands settled on Ten’s hips, “Take this to bed.”

Everything after that happened in a blur.

They were on the bed and then they were undressed. They were kissing and then touching and then stopping, to catch each other’s eyes. Ten yanked Doyoung back into the kiss, desperate and hungry. And Doyoung was the same, he realized as he fell onto his back, Ten over top of him—he was hungry, full of need to take in as much of Ten as possible, to taste Ten so deeply that he’d never forget the taste.

Ten’s hands were soft and rough on Doyoung’s skin, gliding over his thighs almost reverentially, kneeling between them and bowing his head as if in prayer. He took Doyoung into his mouth and Doyoung saw stars. He saw the galaxy swirling above them as Ten pushed a finger inside of him, and he tasted heaven as he moaned for Ten, alternating between his name and _baby_. Ten held Doyoung away from orgasm.

“I need you,” Doyoung said, and he was a desperate fool, grabbing at Ten, trying to pull him inside. “I need you, please.”

Every bit of anger that had ever existed between the two of them was in build up to this moment, to the moment when Doyoung felt Ten’s gaze sweeping over his entire bare body, eager and waiting. Every moment led to Doyoung looking up at Ten, admiring his body and feeling that hunger that no one else could fulfill about to be sated at last.

Ten teased Doyoung, sliding inside him slowly.

Ten was the one who moaning, high and keening. Doyoung laughed and turned his head to the side, to Ten’s bruised wrist; he brushed his lips over the mark as pleasured tears swam in his eyes. His laughter became a moan, Ten gliding over that spot inside of him.

It was glory at last.

He clutched Ten to him, legs around his hips, savoring in the flex of Ten’s body, the weight and heat of him inside of Doyoung.

As Doyoung felt himself getting closer again to orgasm, gaining what Ten had pushed him back from earlier, he couldn’t resist reaching up and curling his fingers over the skin of Ten’s throat. He didn’t squeeze, he just placed his fingers around Ten’s throat, admiring the sight of his hand there, pleased at the feel of Ten’s rapid pulse beneath his touch.

Ten liked it to, moaning, burying himself into Doyoung and leaning into the touch. He smiled a devil’s grin. “Do it.”

Doyoung applied pressure, just enough to have Ten smiling in delirious pleasure, head thrown back, hips stuttering inside of Doyoung. He got off on the throat thing as much as Doyoung did. Doyoung wrapped his free hand around himself, using his precum as natural lube, and he worked his hand over himself, getting off simultaneously to his hand on Ten’s throat, the feel of Ten releasing inside him, and—

He came in his hand, spurting all over his own belly and Ten’s.

After Ten pulled out and reached for a box of tissues to clean them both up, Doyoung sighed and pulled Ten on top of him, sinking into that dip in the middle of the bed. He pressed a kiss to Ten’s temple then his cheek then his lips. “So how would you feel about bringing handcuffs into the bedroom?”

\- - -

“You know what,” Jeno said, “I think you two can keep my room.”

No one made eye contact with them at breakfast the next morning except for Johnny who gave them an “I told you so” look, and Jaehyun who wanted to tease them about the volume and Doyoung’s apparent thing for calling Ten _baby_.

Everyone else avoided them like the plague. Yuta nearly fainted when Doyoung asked about borrowing the handcuffs.

\- - -

Ribbons replaced handcuffs on stage. Kisses replaced arguments.

When Taeyong and Jaehyun began to argue a few weeks later, well, Doyoung already had a perfect solution in mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this was a mess, and I don't even know which members I meant to be in this little fic's comeback like maybe all of them, maybe just the ones I specifically mentioned in the practice room idk. I also don't know what nct's actual dorm situation is, so in this fic all of them just lived in one dorm for the sake of it being my story and I wanted it that way for extra drama. Please leave comments and kudos, feed my need for attention.


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